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sunboki · 2 months

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— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk��letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

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sasukimimochi · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (you are here) Part 6 ...

Overall Warnings: grotesque written imagery, body horror, blood, possession(?) sort of (more like integrating), voices, loss of self (since this isn't really MCD), darker WWX (he's not classic wwx), violence, sexual content.

No warnings for this part ❤ i mean unless u are completely allergic to romantic interactions then maybe there's a warning for that. It gets spicier towards the end but cuts.

THIS PART...is not the full thing. i can't post the whole thing (i cut it early and i plan to write a scene that will not be on tumblr) bc of tumblr TOS. but i wanted to post part of it, so here is part of the 5th section that i can share.

Part 5

· ✦ Feverish ✦ ·

If anything, the minute they’d gotten a room in the inn, Lan Wangji was not expecting Wei Wuxian to immediately steal a kiss. And another. And…another.

The minutes blurred together, and despite the taste of tin on the other’s tongue that set off alarm bells in the back of his mind, he was kissing Wei Wuxian. The man he loved all these years, all this time balled up in his inner conflicts, pining, worrying, and hoping coming to fruition in such a sudden fashion.

He managed to push against Wei Wuxian’s shoulders however when another worry suddenly flared in the back of his mind. “W…Wei Ying. Wait.”

Wei Wuxian’s face flickered with impatience, but he sighed, leaning against the others arms and smiling up at him instead. “Hmmm? Yes?”

“Is this…what you want?”

Those crimson eyes turned up again in subtle mirth. “Hm? Was the tongue I shoved down your throat just now not enough of a hint?”

“W-Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji sighed and pulled him to the bed to sit. “You’re not just…toying?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened once more. Ohhh, that's what this was about. “Oh, haha, haha!” He smiled wide, waving a hand quickly as if the other had said something terribly funny. “You think I've played like this with anyone before?”

Lan Wangji’s silence just stunned the other cultivator more.

“What, you really thought I’d be the type?”

“You…flirt a lot.”

“You mean used to.”

“...” Lan Wangji supposed it made sense that the other stopped flirting if he was traumatized by whatever happened. Ah, that's right- “Wei Ying…I would-” He’s silenced however by a finger to his mouth.

“You’re my first kiss.” Wei Wuxian stated matter of factly. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but who knew I'd have to chase it out of you.”

Lan Wangji swallowed involuntarily, only speaking again once the other removed his finger. “That’s not what I was…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that nasty stuff right now…” Wei Wuxian pouted, pushing the other back slowly by pressing forward more and more, until Lan Wangji’s back was pressed against the bed. He chuckled softly, the sound eliciting a shiver up the other’s spine. “I wanna talk about my bunny’s feelings and kiss until we can hardly breathe. In that order.”

“Wei Ying…!” Lan Wangji turned his head away, but Wei Wuxian just laughed and mouthed at his exposed neck instead, earning hands firmly squeezing his arms and a shuddering breath next to his ear.

“Okay…maybe it doesn’t have to be in order…” Wei Wuxian brought his head up, licking his lips slowly with a little coy grin. “Maybe we can add a few other things to the list too.” his eyes glow subtly, and the grind of his hips elicits a husky gasp out of his bedmate.

“I’d like to taste a little more than your mouth and neck, I think.”

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cloverrover · 2 years

Text

Any Time, Any Place

A/N: I wanted to do a Scott fic and I got inspiration from the usual #thotsquad antics so Thots, enjoy

Warnings: it's spicier than I normally write that's for sure so just to be safe MINORS DNI or is2g I'll block you faster than I blocked my ex

WC: 680

“Oh God please don’t stop!”

“Not God. But I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.”

You couldn’t help the chortle of laughter at his comment on not being God. Whoever discovered the algorithm that funny guys are where it’s at, should be paid because this man, child really, had you the moment he opened his mouth.

But lord was he good at distracting you from the current predicament. Sitting on an unstable ledge with Scotts head buried in your neck while he’s got his hands gripping your thighs so hard you already know there’s going to be bruises. And he’s finishing at a brutal pace that has you making some sound you’ve never made and Scott’s never heard. And you wouldn’t know it but Scott instantly is thinking of ways to get that sound out of you as well.

PNC slams into you, while he’s getting everything back in order, so hard you start snot laughing. You’re almost worried about grossing him out, but after being with him from the start of his Ant-Man training, you’re not worried. He’s also a dad and knows how the human body functions and isn’t grossed out about it.

He damn near folded himself like a lawn chair when he heard the noise, startled so bad he nearly had a heart attack.

You’re snorting like a pig now and him covering your mouth with his hand barely contains the noise and before he knows it, Scott is laughing right along with you. Soon you’re half on each other and half trying to keep upright and not knock over anymore things in the closet that have already been knocked over.

You can’t take this man anywhere really, not even to a damn parent teacher conference even though Cassie is his daughter not yours. Eventually you manage to pull yourselves together and his arms are around your hips, trapping you on the ledge that’s about to give.

“Ok I know I’m not like Steve Rogers but maybe don’t laugh like the kraken when you’ve literally got me leaking out.”

A pointed look to your legs has you giggling again when you realize he’s accurate.

“I’m sorry babe. I am. But I saw this thing once in the group chat that someone sent to me. And there’s speculation on you doing that in the suit any time, any place, and you could grow or shrin-”

You can’t finish your sentence before you’re crying laughing now. The idea that Scott would have sex while wearing the suit AND be able to shrink and grow was entirely too funny to you.

“Jesus Christ what kind of friends are in this chat?”

You’re having a hard time breathing now you’re laughing so hard.

“To be fair, it was Katy who originally found it then sent it in the chat.”

Scott groans at the mention of Katy. He knew the second there was another hero located in San Francisco he was doomed. He was going to need to chat with Shangqi if he wanted to keep Y/N away from the madness that Katy routinely brings her into.

“Before you say anything don’t you dare think about talking to Shangqi about Katy. It’s nice to finally have a friend on this side of the coast.”

“Well I guess they better meet Luis.”

He kisses you to confirm the idea, and just because.

“I might not talk to him, but I’m definitely talking to her about that theory. I want to find out as much as you but I don’t think Hank will approve that kind of experiment with his suits.”

“He didn’t approve of you going to Germany either and look where that got you.”

“Ahem excuse you he didn’t know about Germany.”

You’re looking at like he’s stupider than an infant.

“Ok so he didn’t know about Germany until I was in the raft.”

Another look.

“Ok ok! Jeez woman you should try talking to prisoners that won’t give information with that damn stare. So he knew about Germany.”

“Scott, dear, my love, Hank knows all just accept that. But I’m down to test this out as long as you don’t tell Luis. Then we’re well and truly fucked because Hank will never trust me again near his work”

“You? What about me?!”

You’ve opened the door from the closet by now and make a point to stare at him even harder. Doing the absolute best to not break, it’s impossible. Steve Rogers may give off the energy and demeanor of a golden retriever but Scott. Oh Scott is a pure lab type. Not a thought behind his eyes just here to vibe.

Laughing at the adorable pout, you motion over for him to actually get out of the damn closet before you get in trouble with Cassie’s teacher for being late.

“Come on Mr. Spy we can finish this talk after.”

Kissing you softly on your temple, you lean your body into his while his arm wraps around your shoulder. Maybe one of these days you’d convince him to try it and report back to Katy on the accuracy of the theory or not.s

#Scott lang #ant man #hope van dyne #ant man and the wasp #MCU #Scott x reader #Scott lang imagine #scott lang fanfiction

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kittenshift-17 · 3 years

Note

Hi! I've really been craving some snamione fics, and your writing has made me picky 😬 do you have any fic recs or authors you go to when you're wanting something good? (the spicier the better)

Girl, you came to the right place. My Snamione loving heart is all aflutter. MY TIME HAS COME!!

*scampers off to fetch list to all her fave Snamiones in no particular order*

Self Slain Gods on Strange Altars by scumblackentropy What do you want me to say, Granger? That you are mine and I am yours? You are. I am. Let's not fuck around.

Pet Project by Caeria Hermione overhears something she shouldn't concerning Professor Snape and decides that maybe the House-elves aren't the only ones in need of protection.

FALLING FURTHER IN by kaz2 Hermione begins to learn something of the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom.

Chasing The Sun by Loten AU, from Order of the Phoenix onwards. Hermione only wanted to learn Healing; she discovers that Professor Snape is a human being after all, and his actions dramatically shape the course of the war as events unfold. Complete.

Pride of Time by Anubis Ankh Hermione quite literally crashes her way back through time by roughly twenty years. There is no going back; the only way is to go forward. And when one unwittingly interferes with time, what one expects may not be what time finds...

Inkspots by mezzosangue When you are a double spy with two masters, no one is a friend. But the war ended last May, and Severus is now his own man. An owl brings a letter of change, but is it a good change? Canon Compliant, disregards Epilogue. Eventual SS/HG romance.

Splintered and Broken by A plus He had watched as the thin wood snapped across her knee with a violence he had not known she possessed. He had been her teacher for seven years and had never seen this girl give up at anything. Voldemort wins, Hermione leaves, Severus waits.

The Tattered Man by Aurette I was once asked to write a Marriage Law Challenge fic by someone who loves a sad tale. This short story is it. Angst, Character Death. Tissues recommended. COMPLETE

Saving your life by lilmisblack When Hermione is captured by Death Eaters, Severus knows there's only one way to save her. 'What are you doing? ' she asked, her voice shaky. 'Saving your life,' he said, just as he started kissing her neck.

A Murder of Crows by Hogwarts 91 14 yrs post-war: Hermione’s teaching at Hogwarts when an un-aged Snape awakens from stasis and returns to the school. Sparks fly when they meet. Can they learn to trust and love in time to defeat an evil plot bent on changing the wizarding world forever?

Advanced Floriography by Viridiantly Snape's first question to Harry about wormwood and asphodel in the Language of Flowers means 'I bitterly regret Lily's death'. Harry never gets the message behind the question, but what if Hermione does, years later? Mostly set in HBP, DH and after. A story of messages with flowers, the wizarding war, and different kinds of love. Slow-burn. Not canon-compliant, but canon-inspired.

Looking for Magic by Hypnobarb Severus Snape and Hermione Granger deal with traumas past and present and find they have more in common than they realize as they prepare for the ultimate confrontation with Voldemort. SSHG pairing. Not HBP compliant. This is a novel length story.

Synergy by Laurielove Hermione is being followed, and she suspects she knows by whom. But when they come face-to-face, how will she react to him and his startling request? SS/HG. M readers only, please. Written for the 2011 LJ SS/HG Exchange.

Post Tenebras, Lux by Loten "After Darkness, Light." A chance meeting ten years after the war may not be just a coincidence, and may prove to have very far-reaching consequences. A story of many things, but primarily of healing. SS/HG; rated M for later chapters. Complete.

For the Potions Master's Amusement by snape.submiss Now Complete! Severus Snape is not a kind man, but Hermione Granger is past caring. She wants his approval and will do anything to get it. How far will she go? Even she has no concept of the depths to which she will fall in her quest.

Latent Loveliness by Ladyreason Bellatrix gets in one last curse before her defeat which causes Hermione to fall into a deep sleep... She'll only awaken to one man's kiss. And boy, will she awaken. eventual SSHG pairing

Babble On by Aurette One person's nervous tic, is another's nervous joy.

Liminal by Cybrokat Severus Snape keeps running into a student playing piano. Why does he stop to listen, and how does she respond when she is asked to invite him when she plays? And what about Voldemort? Here there be fluff, romance, drama, and angst.

Sins of the Father by Emmaficready 9 Months after the end of the war, a destitute Severus Snape, practically living rough, gets news that will change his life forever. Severus Snape Lives! / POST DH / EWE WARNINGS: Abuse, Neglect, Character Death, Rape, Sensitive/taboo topics.

The Marriage Law by teshara 020 rewrite and update! When Hermione Granger and Severus Snape are thrown together by the ill-conceived Marriage Law, no one doubts they'll make a good undercover team for the Order. No one suspects that they'll find mutual respect, love, and a plot to destroy the world. A story in 3 parts.

A wizard s trial by snapeophil Hermione is out after curfew when she witnesses something that will change her relationship to her DADA professor forever.

The Prisoner and the Occlumens by duskywolfdaemon Hermione's plans to spend her seventh year on the run with her friends are shattered when Severus Snape shows up with a proposal she cannot refuse. *AU 7th year with Hermione attending Hogwarts. Eventual SSHG. M for reasons. ***COMPLETE***

Unintentional Inveiglement by onecelestialbeing Takes places during the summer after OoTP, the Golden Trio is forced to stay in hiding at Grimmauld Place. Hermione (who is of age!) begins gravitating towards Snape without knowing why, and he attempts keeping her at arms length, but will be able to remain doing so? AU

Innocent Shadows by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse "You'll sort everything. Gods, Hermione, you fought five Death Eaters to a standstill *and* defended and saved Snape."/ "Professor Snape."/ Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. That." He waved his hand at the bed. "So this? Piece of cake." /Marriage Law /ss/hg HEA...always *grin*

Turned Over by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse Severus Snape inherited Hermione Granger at three o'clock on a rain-soaked Saturday morning in March. SS/HG HEA...Always :) COMPLETE

The Irony by awakethelion Hermione Granger gets stuck in her Animagus form and is put in the care of the only one strong enough to control her - Severus Snape. The over-achieving know-it-all Gryffindor, is, in the eyes of Hogwarts student body, home taking care of her ill parents, while in reality she is now living life posing as Professor Snape's familiar. J.K. Rowling owns all the characters.

Camerado by MillieJoan Hermione seeks knowledge from a reluctant Snape in order to help the War effort. What she receives is more than either of them expected. Set beginning in Hermione's sixth year, continuing into a slightly AU post-DH era.

Unto Their Own by CRMediaGal The Light has fallen, Darkness abounds, and Hermione Granger is struggling to survive in a far more sinister Wizarding world. When she is sentenced into Snape's charge, Hermione begins to wonder if everything is truly as it seems. For better or worse, their worlds are about to collide, perhaps even unite them against a common enemy. AU, Post-Hogwarts, Rated M.

Vixen by SLovingLecter After her parent's deaths Hermione is bound and trapped in her Animagus form, first for her own safety, then to ensure the safety of others during the war. Who is she bound to? Severus Snape, of course.

Another Dream by dragoon811 Due to his injuries, Severus is unable to resume his old life. He's determined to be lonely and miserable, but the yearly Order Christmas party becomes a bright spot, thanks to Hermione Granger. Complete.

Entangled by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse No doubt, she'd been showing off obscure spells she found in the archives, again. Apparently, she did that whilst drunk. Hermione never yet had any memory of it. / SS/HG HEA...Always :)

Time Immemorial by FawkesyLady Hermione loses it after the Battle of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she still had that time turner and she uses it, sending her back in time, a mystery for the denizens of Hogwarts, circa 1976. OC's are important. Please note, chapters 21-26 could be considered crossovers with JRR Tolkien's Return of the King. In for long haul, y'all. Nominee for Marauder's Medal 2018, Best WIP.

The Offer of Just One More by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse The feeling in her chest twisted. Tightened. Ronald Weasley didn't want children. SS/HG HEA...Always :) This one's a slow burn.

Time's Hammer by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse She was about to break the time stream. Not just break it, but take a bloody hammer to it. SS/HG HEA...Always :)

Clash of the Conjurers by llorolalluvia In a world where the mere flap of a butterfly's wing can cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe, can one simple glance save a man's life? When Hermione and her professor are forced together against their will, can they overcome their differences, find order amidst the chaos, and save the Wizarding World? not Cannon compliant. Rated M for sexuality and violence. DUBCON!

Turned Over by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse Severus Snape inherited Hermione Granger at three o'clock on a rain-soaked Saturday morning in March. SS/HG HEA...Always :) COMPLETE

One Step Forward, Two Decades Back by corvusdraconis AU/AO: [HG/SS] What-if Story. Hermione Granger gets erased due to a badly phrased, vague, and bitter wish. She is Hermione Granger no more. Now, thanks to Ron, she is Hermione Ankaa Black, sister of Sirius & Regulus Black, & member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Now what is she going to do? Multiple pairings in later chapters, and JP starts out as a rampaging jerk.

Absinthe by Aurette A dark deed on a dark night sends two lives spinning out of control. To forge a future, both must confront their pasts. AU, EWE, SS/HG, HEA

The Love You Take by Subversa Hermione is cursed by the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore believes Professor Snape is the only one who can help her and keep her safe. Hermione is 18 years old in this story, but she is still a student.

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Sylvain sends Felix a very dumb selfie.

Remember the last time that I wrote smut for an AU that I wasn't done writing? Well I've done it again. This is part of the Model AU that I will be finishing. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Inspired by this ridiculous art that Sato drew, and a dumb meme that we all remember. You can read here on A03 for better quality. Follow me on Twitter!

It starts as a picture or two. Simple snaps of Sylvain’s daily life sent to Felix when he’s away at work.

Felix would much rather prefer to bring Sylvain along but he’s decidedly adamant about keeping his shitty job at the cafe. For some reason he likes being a barista, steaming milk and slogging through orders as customers threaten to dump coffee all over him if he fucks up their drink.

Even though Sylvain can model. That he’s been offered exclusivity rights from top-of-the-line brands like Von Aegir.

They could model together, traveling around, hypnotizing society with their vibrant sexual tension. But, is it sexual tension at this point? Felix and Sylvain have scratched that itch, thoroughly and extensively. Lazy nights and mornings filled with lingering fingers and wandering hands. Of kisses pressed into collarbones and purpling bites left behind in claim.

Felix is lonely on his trips abroad. He’s always had a dislike for his work. Kept it up only because he’s good at it and makes bank. It allows him to live a leisurely life full of pleasure and anything that he wants.

Aside from Sylvain, because he’s stuck somewhere in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere called Gautier. Tucked away high in the mountains where it still snows into the early summer, and the entire industry is dependent on tourism.

So, the pictures. Sylvain sends several each day, tiny little peeks into his relatively monotonous life. They bring a smile to Felix’s face as he zooms in, trying to memorize Sylvain’s smile.

Goddess, he’s whipped. Utterly and entirely. The worst part is that Felix doesn’t really care. Can’t find time to. Would rather pine away at the thought of his delectable boyfriend than try and forget about him.

Annette says it’s a good change. “You’re much more agreeable,” she’d said to him a few weeks back. “Clients are liking it. Amazing, what a good dick can do to you, eh?”

Felix hated the response because of course, she’s right. For the first time in years, he’s relaxed. Pleased with himself. Amiable, even.

It’s most definitely because of Sylvain’s glorious cock.

Then the pictures turned spicier. Sylvain half-naked, abs on display. Sleeves pushed up to his forearms, collar undone and open around the collarbone. Suggestive posing as he flaunts what he has.

Makes Felix go dry in the mouth and his shorts incredibly tight.

It’s why Felix hates being in Adrestia, thousands of miles away from it. Pining for it. Thinking about the damage Sylvain’s cock can do while he’s trying to work. It’s hard to model when your pants are tented like you’re a teenager.

Even worse when it’s for a summer swim line, clad in very little.

Felix sneaks away to carefully snap a picture in his trailer, showing off pale skin and swim trunks that leave nothing to the imagination. It makes work hell but means that Felix can go to bed tired and thinking good thoughts. Palming at himself to the idea that Sylvain might be doing the same.

Sylvain has to be, the insatiable fool that he is.

Felix wakes the next morning to a notification of a new picture. Probably Sylvain laying in bed, on his stomach, sheets pulled back to show off his ass. It’s a favorite of Felix’s and he has a few similar saved into an unlabeled folder on his phone.

It isn’t.

Felix drops his phone, face turning unbearably red. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s seen Sylvain’s dick enough times to know exactly how the weight of it feels in his hand and on his tongue. The way that he tastes, the slight tang of his come, or the sweat on his skin.

This picture is ridiculous in a truly Sylvain-like fashion. He’s half-naked in front of the mirror, clad only in his briefs. His cock rock-hard and tipped to the side, filled entirely and--

There’s a shampoo bottle sitting on it.

It’s so obscenely dumb that Felix can’t help but stare, mouth parting. Tongue sneaking out to lick his lips. Sylvain’s big enough to be impressive, the bottle settling onto its perch with little to no effort. Then there’s the wink, Sylvain’s insufferable cheekiness evident in his expression.

It’s too early in the morning for Felix to be suddenly so horny. He shouldn’t be half-hard at the idea of such a dumb photo. There are less than two hours to be up, showered, and at the shoot location. And that’s if Annette doesn’t show up early to drag him out of bed.

Felix’s hand finds his cock anyway, palming himself over his briefs. This is a really, really bad idea. His hand sneaks into his waistband, circling his length properly. Then Felix slides down his briefs and kicks them out of the way. Truly, the worst plan he’s ever come up with.

And he’s dating Sylvain, so that’s saying something.

Felix throws his head back as he strokes along his dick, now fully hard. All because of Sylvain’s incessant, yet endearing, stupidity.

He certainly doesn’t think of Sylvain’s hands, large and calloused, wrapping around him entirely. In a warm grip. Doesn’t think of the way he whispers dirty things into Felix’s ears as he makes quick work of his cock.

Felix is already leaking at the tip, already feeling that tightly coiled fired deep in his gut. Pathetically close even when he’s only barely begun. He spreads the precome to aid the slide of his fingers, squeezing the crown of his dick on the next upstroke.

“Fuck,” murmurs Felix, looking at the picture again. At Sylvain’s softhearted and kind face, that devilish smirk that’s reserved for only Felix. Where his neck meets his powerful shoulders. His handsome pecs, clearly defined.

And then, of course, the best part; Sylvain’s cock, outlining his briefs so very clearly. Every crease woefully evident where it pulls the cotton fabric taut; the dips and valleys along the length of him.

It makes Felix’s mouth water and his ass clench painfully. Wanton and waiting. Incredibly frustrated.

Felix can end it now or--

He looks at the time and thinks. Then he makes the terrible decision to slip his fingers into his mouth, slicking them with spit. Not as ideal as lube but he’s short on time. Thankfully, he’s still a little loose, pliant from his night before.

Felix fucked himself on his fingers to many a picture in that cursed folder on his phone that remains unnamed. Random and innocent selfies. Slightly spicier, indulgent pieces. The pictures that they sometimes take together while sharing their bed.

Annette calls it his spank bank after accidentally stumbling across it while working. She’d spent a good ten minutes roasting Sylvain’s cock until Felix told her to shut up. Then she’d roasted his instead.

Felix works a finger in slowly. “Dammit,” he says. Sylvain’s ruined him, it seems. In his expectations. Felix’s fingers are slim and dextrous, able to get the job done. They aren’t nearly as long or thick as Sylvain’s. Don’t fill him up the same.

A second joins the first a little bit too soon, but Felix knows what he wants. Impatient at his best, he’s insistent in the way he touches himself. The slight, delicious sting of his fingers as they pull at his rim. The stretch is addicting as he presses them in and out.

Thinking that they’re Sylvain’s, that he’s right here beside Felix instead of across the continent. Whispering dirty, sweet nothings into his ear, his voice pitched dangerously low. Felix climbs that high, panting as he jerks himself off, his fingers sliding deep, angling just so.

The first touch against his prostate sets Felix’s nerves alight. The second turns him into a moaning mess. His dick is slick, his ass tight. Clenching around his fingers as he thinks the dirtiest thoughts that he can muster.

Particularly, Sylvain’s cock and the perfect way that it fills him. How he thrusts into his ass, teasing strokes as his hands grip at Felix’s thighs. The way Sylvain sighs into Felix’s neck as he tries to hold himself back, lasting as long as possible. The way that he watches as he slides in and out, murmuring about how Felix has ruined him forever.

Sylvain frequently worships the way that Felix can bring him to his knees with just a heated gaze.

“Idiot,” says Felix, looking at the picture once more, his face flushed and pink with desire. “Stupid, how much I miss you.”

Felix’s fingers find a good rhythm as they slide in and out, spreading his rim. Intoxicating, the way that pleasure flows through him. He can feel the tendrils of it in every limb. And finally, Felix comes, his cock spilling as cries out Sylvain’s name in a whining moan. Eyes shut tight as he rides that feeling, rides his fingers, rides the memory of what Sylvain would feel like were it him nestled deep inside Felix instead.

He pulls his fingers from himself gingerly and lifts himself onto wobbly legs. Sets about starting a shower. Once in it, he stares at the mini-sized bottle of soap tucked into the corner of the tub.

“Shampoo,” says Felix, still trying to catch his breath. “How utterly embarrassing.” Losing himself entirely to such a moronic selfie. He still saves it to that damned folder on his phone. Knows just how much relief it’ll bring him until he finds his way back home.

It’s a long cool down. Long enough that Annette’s banging on his hotel door once he steps from the bathroom, wrapped in a robe. He used to give her the spare key. Stopped when she walked in on him and Sylvain doing, in her words, dastardly things.

When he opens the door he still isn’t dressed. Annette looks him up and down. Takes in his relaxed and fucked out aura, then smirks knowingly.

Felix tells her to fuck off before letting her in.

She says nothing as he dresses. Only stares as he mills about. Then, when it’s nearly time to head to the shoot, she says, “Well, at least you’ll be pliable today.”

Annette has no idea.

Earlier, Felix took a photo while still in his blissed-out orgasmic haze. One of his cock in his hand and his spend all over his stomach. The mess that he’d made while fingering himself to Sylvain’s supreme idiocy.

He’s never sent something so overtly explicit to Sylvain. Until now. Sylvain must be asleep because he hasn’t responded. Or maybe he’s furiously stroking himself to the sight of it instead.

Either way, Felix can’t wait to see the result.

#sylvain/felix #felix/sylvain #felix x sylvain #fe3h fanfiction

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Different - Adam Sackler (pt. 3)

thank you soooo much for all the love and support you’ve been showing to this series, this means so much to me! this series has been pretty dear to my heart so I’m happy that so many of you like it! this part is a little shorter than the previous ones, but for the sake of the plot this is where I had to cut it. given the fact how fast I’m writing the story, I’ll probably stick to the daily posting, and there will be approximately 5 parts all together, meaning 2 more until the end! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

series summary: Hannah lets you move in with her and Adam as you are her second cousin and in need of a place to live. Your relationship with Adam starts rocky, but things soon seem to be taking a turn.

pairing: Adam Sackler x Reader

word count: 3.3k

PART 1 - PART 2

masterlist

It’s been hard on Adam as well and he has been struggling just as hard as you. The past couple of weeks has left him with a lot of emotions and he has been working on sorting them out, but it’s a situation he hasn’t faced just yet. Following Hannah’s departure Adam definitely had fears, but it took some time for him to realize they weren’t about her, but more about you. Living with you alone, with no third person scared him, because he has already been having inappropriate thoughts about you before and now that Hannah was away, he felt like he had one less thing to keep him in his place.

He knows it’s not okay to watch you do your everyday things and think about how much he loves to just look at you, that catching himself thinking about you several times a day is not what he should be doing and that the endless jealousy he felt when he found out that you are going on a date scared him more than almost anything in life. When you told him the truth that’s hard to accept for the both of you, he kind of realized you were right, but when he lied in his bed that night, sleepless from his racing thoughts, he still couldn’t make himself believe it’s best if he keeps himself away from you. He has tried that already and it ended with him sleeping in your bed after that night you got drunk. There is just something in you that keeps pulling him in and he can do nothing against it. And slowly, he realizes he doesn’t want to do anything. He is tired of fighting with himself.

He wants to know where this could lead, he just doesn’t know how to figure it out in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone.

A few days later Tyler asks you out on a second date to which you say yes and because of everything that went down you don’t tell Adam. Hannah is set to come back for the weekend exactly when you are going to go out with him again so you think it’s the perfect timing.

The week goes by pretty uneventfully. You and Adam hang out on evenings, usually having dinner together when he gets home in time from work, but when he doesn’t, you’re still up when he arrives so you just watch TV together for a while before you feel like you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. He is nice, chatty, seems to be okay with where you two are heading and it brings you a little peace too, knowing that you might have finally found balance.

Coming home from work that Friday, when you walk into the apartment Hannah greets you with a scream.

“Hey!” she throws herself on you and you barely catch her keeping your balance.

“You’re back!” you chuckle hugging her.

“Yeah, just got here like twenty minutes ago. How are you?”

“I’m good! Everything is fine.”

As you reply Adam walks out of their bedroom and joins the three of you, kissing the top of Hannah’s head and a rush of jealousy washes over you by this small gesture. It’s been quite long since you saw them together and almost forgot the fact that they are really a couple.

“How was living with Adam without me? Did he drive you crazy?” she asks grinning, glancing up at Adam and you notice the anxious look in his eyes that he tries to cover with a warm smile.

Did he drive you crazy? Kind of, and you guess he knows the answer too, he is just scared what you might tell Hannah, but you are not a petty person.

“No, he was alright,” you exhale smiling.

“Good, I’m glad you two got along well,” she nods as you and Adam look at each other and chills run down your spine from the look he gives you before turning back to Hannah. “We are having dinner at that new place a few corners from here, you wanna join us?”

“I’m sure you’d rather be alone.”

“No, I want you to come! This is my time for everyone here, not for just Adam. We’ll have the rest of the weekend together.” “Yeah, but…” you sigh, not wanting to go into the details why you don’t want to go, but she forces it out of you.

“What, do you have a date or something?”

“I…”

“You do!” she gasps. “Who’s the guy? Oh my God Y/N, that’s amazing!”

“Is this the Tyler guy again?” Adam sternly asks and looking at him you can’t really decide what his expression means.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you’ve met him already? So it’s not the first date?”

“No, we had one already.”

“Is he taking you to dinner?”

“No, he said we are going to this art gallery opening.” “Okay, then you can have an early dinner with us, tell us everything about him and then meet him, this is just perfect!”

“I think she doesn’t want to share the details, Hannah,” Adam chimes in, trying to hold his girlfriend back, but she is just too stubborn and you both know that.

“I demand to be told about it! Go, get ready, we are leaving in thirty,” she urges you and you just know you can’t say no to her.

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a small table in this restaurant that you just can’t tell if it’s Italian or Japanese, but you let this detail slip.

“So, let’s hear everything! How did you meet him, what is he like, is he treating you right?” Hannah seems excited to hear all about Tyler, but she is probably the only one feeling that way at the table.

“Maybe not everything,” Adam mumbles, his eyes focused on the menu even though you’ve already ordered. Hannah dismisses his comment.

“Um, we work at the same place, he is on HR. He is nice, I guess,” you shrug, feeling nervous to talk about it all, especially with Adam sitting right in front of you.

“Is he cute?”

“He… is.”

“Has he kissed you? Or have you already slept with him?”

“Hannah,” Adam growls and she looks at him confused as you try not to choke on your own saliva by her blunt questions.

“What?” she growls turning to Adam. “Out of the three of us you are the least prude person, so what is your problem?”

“We are in a fucking… restaurant. Have some morals,” he quietly tells her, but she just rolls her eyes at him before turning back to you.

“Um, nothing has happened yet,” you say and your eyes meet Adams. You wish you could read his thoughts right at that moment, because there is something in his eyes, but you just can’t tell what it is.

“Oh, he is moving slow, how romantic,” she smiles to herself as you just awkwardly nod. You don’t share the detail that he has tried to kiss you last time, you just ducked and his lips ended up on your cheeks. You were really not into getting physical so fast and luckily he seemed to understand and accept your decision.

“So, how is Iowa?” you ask with the pure intention of diverting the attention away from you to her. You watch her face drop a little, but then her smile is back a moment later.

“Oh, it’s nice. I don’t have many classes, so I have tons of time to write.”

“That’s nice! I’m glad you are enjoying your time.”

“Yeah!” she nods, but you feel like it’s not genuine.

The rest of the dinner is just as awkward as the beginning was. You hate sitting there and watching Hannah and Adam be affectionate with each other. This is a whole new level of third-wheeling, because when they kiss at one point, you catch Adam’s eyes on you and it makes you want to scream. The intensity of the moment is just throwing you over the edge, you hate this, you hate seeing them together and you just don’t understand. It’s not like a new thing, you literally lived together for months before she left, what’s so different now?

You can’t wait for the moment it’s time for you to leave and when it finally comes you basically flee.

“It’s been great to talk, I hope you’re gonna have a nice evening together!” you say forcing yourself to smile before hugging Hannah goodbye and heading towards the exit.

You’re almost out the door when someone grabs your wrist and turning back you see Adam standing in front of you.

“Wait, I just…”

He struggles to find the right words as you wait for him to finally tell you what he wants.

“Yes, Adam?” you urge him to speak.

“What I told you before the last date still stands.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you furrow your eyebrows at him confused.

“That if you need help, just call me.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure everything is going to be alright. Besides, just enjoy your time with Hannah.”

That second part comes out a little spicier than you intended, you can actually see the change in his eyes, but before he could say anything else you just turn around and walk out.

You take a few minutes to yourself outside in the cold night air. This past few hours has been harder on you than you would actually admit and now the thought of them spending the rest of the evening together just makes you want to cry even though this is the most normal thing to happen on the planet since they are a couple.

You hate this, you really do, because you really thought things are going to get better after what went down recently between you and Adam, but Hannah’s return just made it a hundred times harder and made you feel worse than ever.

When you finally get your shit together you head to the subway because you are already a little late.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t get your mind fully away from Adam and it shows. Tyler is trying his best to make this evening as nice as possible, but you just can’t wait to go home, crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep probably. The date cuts shorter than last time as you tell him you’d really like to head home when he suggests to go for a walk just like last time.

“Thanks for everything, Tyler,” you smile at him when you arrive to your building.

“I hope you didn’t find it too boring,” he chuckles scratching the back of his neck.

“No! I really liked it, so thank you.”

“Alright…” There is a short pause before he steps closer and he tries to kiss you again.

And you turn away, again.

But this time, the reaction is a little different.

“Okay, this is not cool, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly frustrated by the situation.

“I’m sorry?”

“This is not middle school where you hold hands for six months straight before you let the guy kiss you for the first time.”

“Are you mad because I’m not kissing you? I’m really not feeling well, this is why I would rather not.”

“Why do I feel like you’ll always have an excuse? You know what? Last time I let it slip because I thought you are just a little shy, but this gotta be something else.”

The fact that he is pissed at you for such a nonsense thing is making you mad as well, wanting to just punch him right now.

“Grow up and learn to respect others, Tyler,” you spat at him, but he just scoffs.

“You telling me to grow up is the joke of the month, honestly. Other girls usually ask me to come up at this point and you don’t even let me kiss you, this is just ridiculous!”

“Well I’m not like other girls!” you retort and you are just about to turn around and leave this unbelievable conversation when he grabs your wrist and yanks you back, causing you to almost lose your balance and fall.

“I’m not fucking done with you! You can’t just walk away from me when I’m still talking!” he sneers through his teeth, hand gripping your wrist tightly.

“Let me go, asshole,” you hiss at him trying to free yourself, but he is just too strong and his hold is starting to get really painful, probably already leaving a mark on your skin.

He is just about to say something else when the door to the building flies open and the next thing you know is that someone just throw a punch at Tyler, and he lets go of you to cover his nose that immediately starts bleeding.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, in shock at the sudden events and you turn to see a very angry looking Adam, shaking his hand lightly and he definitely looks like he is ready to kill Tyler any moment.

“You better get the fuck away from here, you fucker, before I break your neck!” he warns him and Tyler stares back in shock, the blood staining his shirt.

For a moment you feel like he is going to hit back, but then he decides it’s better to leave. He mumbles something under his breath before spitting on the pavement right in front of you and then walks away.

“Are you okay?” Adam turns to you, the threatening tone is long gone from his voice, turning soft in just a heartbeat. He cups your face in his hands, checking if you have anything on you, but there’s nothing, just pure shock in your eyes.

“I-I’m alright. It’s just my hand,” you whimper, feeling the tears building up in your eyes as it all crashes at you once. He gently takes your hand, taking a look at it and it’s a deep shade of red and you’re already sure it’s going to bruise by the morning.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” he softly says wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he pulls you to his side and walks you up to the apartment.

You sit on the couch, sniffing quietly as he gets you an icepack, and you still can’t believe this just happened.

“Here,” he sighs joining you on the couch, handing you the icepack. You mumble a faint thank you as you push it to your skin, hissing at the sudden coldness of it. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you anywhere else?”

“No, he didn’t have the chance, you arrived in time,” you say with a sad smile.

“What the fuck happened though?” he asks with a grimace, running his fingers through his hair.

“He… got mad at me because I didn’t want to kiss him. He said we are not in middle school and girls usually ask him to go up at this point. Told him I’m not like that and he didn’t take it well.”

“That dickhead!” he curses shaking his head.

“How did you know you had to come down? And where’s Hannah?” The questions start to flow into your mind as you slowly adjust to the happenings around you. The apartment seems quiet, you’re more than sure she is not home.

“She went out with Jessa and Marnie,” he shrugs and you find it odd that she spends her first night out with friends instead of being with Adam, but you don’t say anything about it.

“And my other question?” you ask remembering he never answered the first question.

“Huh?”

“How did you know you had to come down?”

“I uhh… I was just looking out the window and spotted you two. When I saw his annoying ass face turn from a smile into that fucking frown I knew something was about to happen.”

“Were you waiting by the window?” you quietly ask.

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“So it was all one big coincidence?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you see right through him and he knows it too. “Okay, fuck it! I was waiting at the window, you happy now?”

“But why?”

“Why? Because I’m one big fucking loser and I wanted to see the fucker you are seeing. I wanted to see how you look at him, if he makes you laugh, if he is what you deserve.”

He exhales sharply, pouring his heart out finally. He has been holding it all back for too long and he just can’t keep himself back anymore.

“I hated the thought of you being with someone, I could barely sit still after you left and when Hannah said she is meeting her friends I just came home and stood at the fucking window like some fucking creep, waiting for you to finally come home.”

You stare at him completely shocked at his sudden confession, not knowing what to do or say, but one thing is for sure; his words are making your heart flip.

“I can’t keep pretending like I’m fine with just being friends with you, because I’m not! And it’s literally the worst feeling ever, and I—“

He doesn’t get to finish, because without really thinking through what you are doing you move forward and press your lips to his, kissing him hard, dropping the icepack from your hand to cup his face in your palms.

It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he finally does, he doesn’t waste any more seconds. Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you to his lap and you put a knee on each of his sides, pressing up against him while your lips move in sync.

You feel him in every bit of your body, it’s like electricity. You’ve thought about what it would like to kiss him before, but reality is nothing like those ridiculous daydreams. The way he pulls on your bottom lip, how his fingers dive into your hair on the back of your head and feeling his broad shoulders under your palms, it’s just making your mind explode. You want to kiss him every day for the rest of your life, feel his plump lips on yours all the time, the weight of his arms around your body, the way his hair sticks to your forehead upon touching.

It all crashes when you suddenly hear Hannah’s laugh coming from outside and in a blink of an eye you push him away and jump off him, shocked at what you just did. The two of you stare at each other for a moment at a complete loss of words for what just happened, but when you hear Hannah’s key wiggle in the lock you decide it’s time to disappear.

Covering your mouth with your hand you run into your room and shut the door closed just when she walks in. You press your back against it sliding down to the floor and you hear their conversation while you just sit there in utter shock.

“Y/N?” she calls after you. “I wanted to ask how her date went,” she sadly sighs.

“Um, she… It wasn’t the best,” you hear Adam answer and your throat closes up at hearing his voice.

“Really? What did she say?”

“The dude was a dick. I think she just wants to sleep it off,” he cleverly says so Hannah won’t come into your room to interrogate.

You hear him talk about her evening before they move into their bedroom and the voices become too muffled to make out what they are saying. You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor, but after a while you just blankly crawl up to the bed and pulling the covers over your head you pray to wake up with an easier heart, because right now it feels like you are carrying a rock in your chest, thinking about what you just did.

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver @siren-queen03 @holacherrycola90 @spencer-is-amazing @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog @hurricanesunset

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#adam #sackler #driver #adam driver #adam sackler #adam sackler imagine #adams ackler au #adam sackler imagines #adam sackler fanfiction #adams ackler fanfictions #adam sackler fiction #adams ackler story #adam driver imagine #adam driver fanfiction #adam sackler x you #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x y/n #hbo girls

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takingcourage · 4 years

Text

Something Real

Pairing: M! Cassian x MC (Kellen)

Word Count: 2,250

Summary: Kellen tries to come to terms with both her situation and her new identity. In the process, she learns more about the night she left Cassian’s apartment.

Rating: M for safety. There’s nothing explicit here, though this story includes sexual themes and is a bit spicier than what I usually write. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: I’m whipped for this book, apparently. I’m not sure if it’s the isolation or the fact that I’ve finally scheduled daily writing time again, but I’ve struggled to get these characters out of my head this week.

If you’re interested in reading the other piece I’ve written for this pairing, you can find it here: Breakfast and Broken Rules.

After her third trip to the bathroom, Kellen had had enough. She wasn't going to fall back to sleep, and there was no use proving it with another hour of tossing and turning on the too-soft mattress.

It had been a little after 4:00 when she'd pried the batteries out of the clock in desperation, hoping that its incessant ticking was the real reason she hadn't been able to find sleep again. But even after relieving herself, removing the sound of the clock, and flicking on the light in the bathroom, rest was impossible to come by.

What she needed was to clear her head, and it was pretty evident that wasn’t going to happen here.

Mind made up, she crawled out of bed and turned on the overhead light. Working quietly, Kellen pulled open the top two drawers of the dresser to consider what she had to work with. She removed a sweatshirt and pair of leggings, contemplating the lack of other options. They hadn't given her a sports bra, but the bikini top they'd provided would be better than nothing. Taking all three items, she shut the drawers and changed into the makeshift gear.

The previous night had told her that Cassian could sleep through anything, but she still crept down the stairs deliberately. She slipped out through the back door without so much as a glance toward the living room.

Outside, the morning was humid and cool -- more dark than light, though the tinge on the horizon promised to overtake the sky in short order. Tugging her hair back into a tight ponytail, she tried to remember what she knew of the neighborhood from their trip into town the night before. With the barest hint of a path in mind, she was ready.

Kellen sucked a deep breath, then started to run.

Her first steps felt like falling as her body adjusted to the sudden momentum, but she quickly caught her stride. By the time she’d reached the end of the street and found sidewalk, each step was as natural as breathing.

Running outdoors again was unusual, but by no means unpleasant. The salty tang with each swallow of air that filled her lungs was a far cry from the scent of cleaner and sweat that usually waited in her building's gym. But even though the trappings were different, the motion was the same. And as always, the more attuned she became with her body, the more she could leave her worries behind.

The events of the past twenty-four hours were incomprehensible. She didn’t even try to process them as she navigated the unfamiliar pathway. She’d spent most of the early morning chasing away phantom fears and memories -- the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, the sight of blood pooling onto concrete, the sound of an alias that she still didn’t recognize as her own...

This morning, she needed reality. More than that, she needed to feel like she had control.

Kellen pushed harder, conscious of the shift made to her breathing to accommodate the faster pace. With satisfaction, she counted breaths in tempo. Every one made her more aware of her body. Every step made the world around her feel less like a dream. It became tangible with each push she made against the solid concrete.

in the morning calm, she began to feel like herself again.

She rounded a corner eventually, lips curving into a smile at the water that stretched before her. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that the harbor was her destination, though she wasn’t surprised to have reached it. With one final burst of momentum, she came to the end of the pavement.

Slowing as she approached open sand, she inhaled deeply and pulled off her sweatshirt to wipe the sheen of sweat from her forehead. The run back could wait awhile.

Eyes on the horizon, she caught her left ankle behind her thigh and held it in a stretch. As she switched to the other leg, she almost thought she sensed movement behind her. It’s nothing, Kellen. You’re just jumpy from yesterday.

But another voice contradicted that theory a millisecond later. "It's me, Kellen."

By the time she recognized Cassian, her relief wasn’t enough to keep her from stumbling. With a grimace, she caught her balance and managed to keep herself upright. Turning towards the sound of his voice, she was met with a rush of blood that had nothing to do with her alarm.

For the second time in as many days, she was treated to the sight of his body, shirtless and glistening with sweat. From the look of things, he’d gotten out of bed and run behind her the entire way. He hadn’t even bothered to pull his hair back or put on more than a loose pair of shorts. She dipped into a hamstring stretch to hide her shame at the realization.

“Didn't mean to scare ya.”

She saw his shins in her periphery and bit her tongue in hopes of recovering some dignity. After a couple of measured breaths, her heart rate had almost returned to normal. “You’re supposed to be protecting me, not scaring me to death.” Kellen swung upward in time to see him angle a brow in amusement.

“That would be easier if you didn’t keep sneaking out on me. Or leaving,” he amended.

His reference to her words from the previous morning struck a pang of guilt. “I was planning to sneak back in this morning.” Stretches forgotten, she made her way to a nearby bench and sat down, hoping that focusing her attention back on the sunrise would help to ease her mortification. “How’d you even know I was gone?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” he admitted, taking a seat next to her.

"That wasn't the case two nights ago," she ribbed in an effort to lighten the mood. At his silence, she cocked her head to look back at him. The honesty in his emerald eyes told her all she needed to know. “You were awake? And you just let me leave?”

He ran his palm across his forehead and seemed to consider the sweat for a moment. “I know better than to argue with a woman who knows what she wants. If she leaves my bed before daylight, I figure there's gotta be a reason for it.”

Doubt gnawed Kellen’s conscience. Everything in her was screaming that he deserved an explanation, but she bit her tongue a second time. She’d left sleeping men in countless beds. What was it about him that made her feel so guilty?

She was attracted to him physically. That much was obvious. But the same was true for dozens of men she’d met at dozens of parties before. But each of those times, a few hours together had been all it took to get them out of her system. Why wasn’t a one-night stand enough when it came to him?

That wasn’t a line of questioning she needed to pursue now...or ever.

Switching tacts, she edged nearer on the bench. They still weren’t quite touching, but the electricity between their bodies was unmistakable. The hitch in his breath was enough to tell her that he was aware of her closeness. The almost imperceptible glance he cast her way confirmed that their thoughts were moving in much the same direction.

Hand outstretched, she traced the length of his forearm until reaching the sensitive skin at his wrist. Her index finger toyed with the skin beneath his woven bracelet.

As suspected, the touch sparked into flame. Cassian pulled toward her, one thigh effectively crowding her space on the narrow bench. The response was all the encouragement she needed to swing a leg over his lap and wind her arms around his neck.

Kellen fought to keep her eyes open as the warm skin of his belly brushed against her own. He felt too good. It was intoxicating having him beneath her like this -- solid and strong, yet completely at her mercy. Her lips descended, so close that their breaths mingled as one. “If you want me back in your bed, you know where to find me.”

Cassian surged forward, his powerful arms locking around her bare midriff as their lips met. He swallowed her contented sigh, and she could have sworn that she felt tension leave his body in turn.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered when they finally broke for air.

Kellen pressed herself closer, suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was clad in nothing but a pair of leggings and a thin bikini top. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she promised, kissing him again as a wandering hand ventured down his side.

Beneath her, his green eyes grew impossibly dark. “You have no idea how much I want to.”

She bristled with pleasure, using her free hand to tip his face forward. “Then let me show you.” Carding her fingers through his hair, she sucked his lower lip sharply. He responded eagerly in kind, biting her lower lip before he soothed it with further kisses.

She needed more of him. The hand at his side crept further down, each inch bringing her closer to her goal. Every nerve burned with desire. All of the stress, the uncertainty, and the fear of the last twenty-four hours boiled down to insatiable lust.

Cassian caught her wrist as she reached his waistband. “We can’t.” With pride, she noted that his whisper lacked the force of conviction. “Anyone could see.”

Casting her head back, she made a show of looking up and down the empty beach. “No one’s here. Nobody on this island knows us anyway.”

His swollen lips parted to draw a deep breath. "That’s the whole point. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile so you don’t attract attention.” His hands fell to her hips, though they served to push her away instead of holding her closer.

“I can keep quiet if you can.”

For a moment, she thought he might take her up on the challenge, but his resigned sigh broke the spell. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“is that really what you want?”

“No,” he answered immediately, looking almost sheepish at the bold admission. “I want this. I want you. But I can’t let that compromise your safety.”

As much as she wanted to push him further, she could tell that the moment was over. Whatever they’d been on the verge of had passed the instant he’d stopped her. With an unintelligible grumble, she climbed down from his lap and moved several inches away.

It a few moments for her to gather her bearings. “Do you need a dip in the water before we head back?”

She’d expected him to scoff at the suggestion, but instead he responded with a spirited laugh. “That might not be a bad idea.”

“It would make for a miserable run back.”

“Sure enough.”

They settled into a mostly comfortable silence as Kellen watched the waves roll in. His laughter still rang in her ears: a guileless, uninhibited sound. A sound she very much wanted to hear again.

All things considered, Cassian made for pretty decent company. Even if the morning hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, she acknowledged that it could have been much worse.

“Thank you,” she uttered finally, eyes still trained on the brilliance of the bay.

“For what?”

“For not telling me how stupid it was to sneak out on my own.”

He surveyed her curiously. “Would it have made a difference?”

“No.” She toyed with the cuff of her sweatshirt and contemplated putting it back on. Between the ocean breeze and the loss of his body heat, she was almost cold.

“I didn’t think so. And so you know, I don't mind early morning runs. I'll keep my distance if that's what you want, but I can't let you out of the house alone at this ungodly hour. Tomas would have my hide.”

“I’ll let you know next time,” she promised, sliding her arms back into the sleeves of her crewneck.

“I’d be very grateful.” He paused for a moment before adding, “You’re a funny woman, Kelsey Russo.” The lilt in his voice was almost enough to disguise how strange the alias sounded to her ears. “But I like spending time with ya.”

His simple admission sent her heart into a frenzy once again, though this time the cause was very different. Why was it such a thrill to know that he enjoyed her company? He’d done nothing to suggest otherwise.

Still, Kellen didn’t know how to respond. If she admitted that she felt the same, he might come to expect something. But she didn’t want to brush the comment off either. She was starting to believe that this man deserved better than just her witty comebacks and evasions.

As if sensing her discomfort, Cassian broke the silence. “The rest of the island will be waking up soon. Should we head back and find you some coffee?”

“That sounds perfect,” she agreed. Coffee meant further return to normalcy, a sense of routine when so much was uncertain.

And yet, some rebel part of her hoped that the invitation included company as well. Much as she benefited from being alone, she wasn’t sure she could handle more time spent examining her thoughts this morning. She was beginning to fear what that kind of transparency with herself might lead to.

That’s a problem for another day. With a determined spring in her step, she nodded toward Cassian and began running again.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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